


Big Conversation

by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)



Series: YPLHverse [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anonymous Sex, Body Swap, Coming Untouched, F/M, First Time, Helmets, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Virginity, jealous Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/pseuds/Ever-so-reylo
Summary: Tumblr drabbles, mostly NSFW ᕳ ͡°༼ ͜ʖ ͡°ᕲ.The ficlet set in the YPLHverse is chapter 6, the others are unrelated!The TRoS Dark Rey drabble is chapter 7.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Серьёзный разговор](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17482877) by [Scofie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scofie/pseuds/Scofie)



> Hey my dudes, I'm moving my (very few) drabbles from Tumblr to AO3, just in case! ♡♡♡
> 
> ETA: There is now a [Russian translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7645681) of some of these ficlets!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Anonymous Sex

 

She is so fucking _beautiful_. 

She is perfect, and she smells like flowers and seawater, and girls like her don’t come to places like this one, and if they do they sure don’t stumble with Ben into poorly lit storage rooms. Most definitely, they don’t let him fuck them.

And yet. She’s here. Disturbingly beautiful and so different from the others, with that earnest smile, and her genuine, open-mouthed appreciation when his shirt comes off, and a breathy, hesitant voice as she asks, “Can you… um, please, can you use a condom?”

No matter how nicely her ass fits his palm, it’s clear that she has never done this. Not in a bar at two AM, for sure. She looks nervous and fucking _ripe_ , and as he makes his way under her skirt Ben tells himself that if she’s not wet this is  _over. She_ is better than this. He’s not going to prepare her or go down on her, not going to try and persuade her body to do something this sordid.  He’s going to take her hand and guide her out of the bar and get her cab and  _maybe_  kiss her on the cheek as he holds the door open for her. Once. One kiss.

Except that she’s fucking  _drenched_ , and the sounds she makes when he slips a finger inside make him dizzy, and he’s pinning her against the wall before he even knows what he’s doing. Somewhere along the way he even rolled on that condom. 

Look at him. A true prince.

“What’s your name?” Ben has never asked for a name, before. He doesn’t care for names.

“Rey.”

_Rey_. Her name sounds so good. Almost as good as the little whimper she lets out as he slides in to the hilt, snug and perfect, and the friction—

Things that feel this good, they don’t happen to Ben. They simply do not.

“Rey. I’m going to fuck you so well.”  _Don’t say it. Stop here. Savor how absurdly tight she is, like she’s less than a hairbreadth from coming already. Stare at her breasts and at her obscenely beautiful face, look your fill, but by all means, don’t say it._

_Do. Not. Fucking. Say—_

“And then I’m gonna take you home, and fuck you some more. In my bed. Okay?”

_Too late._

Rey’s head falls back to rest against the wall. She nods, unseeing, and Ben… 

Ben’s  _this_  close to coming, so he starts thrusting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Jealous Rey

 

“What about this?”

Rey bites her lower lip, hesitant for a moment, and then leans forward to kiss him on the lips.

It’s not… not quite chaste. It lasts a little too long, and it’s a little too soft—too purposeful to be considered just a peck. It’s a kiss, alright, and Kylo would love nothing more that to answer in kind, but his brain is not fully operational at the moment.

“This,” Rey prods. “Did she do this? When the two of you…”

Kylo can’t recall.

He can’t remember, and even if he could he wouldn’t want to. Not now, with Rey straddling him like this, sitting in his lap and wearing nothing but an old tunic of his she borrowed after her shower. There isn’t much Kylo wants to remember right now, and least of all that clumsy, adolescent fumbling during his Padawan training, with some girl he hasn’t thought of for the better part of a decade.

“Maybe.”

Rey’s mouth moves to trace his jaw, and her breath chuffs against his neck, almost making him shiver.

“What do you mean, maybe?”

“It means—Rey, I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

It’s getting trickier, to keep his hands to himself. To hide from her how much he is enjoying this, where he wants this to end—Rey on her back, under him, his to fuck into the mattress. The thing is—he’s not sure. She is so young, and Kylo has no idea what she wants, what she even  _knows_  of this. Of sex. And this bond between them, this mess of a connection in which her desires feed off his in a never-ending loop, until the madness of it all just bleeds together. It would be so  _easy_ , for this to become coercive, and the thought sits like lead in his stomach—has for a while.

And yet. She looks so soft, so determined, so  _willing,_  on top of him. The firmness of her hands on his shoulders as she holds him against the bulkhead, and the way her teeth run down his throat, as if to mark him just a little. Just _enough_.

“What about this? What I’m doing now.”

_I don’t know. I don’t know, Rey. I don’t care. It was always you._

Kylo grunts, a mix of pleasure and frustration. This is… uncomfortable. She feels unbelievable, and his cock is surging and leaking, and soon it will be beyond him, to string together a coherent thought.

“What about here? Did she touch you here?” Her hand slides down—his biceps, his ribcage, the higher part of his abs. His chest. Rey was the one to take off his shirt, this time. And Kylo, who is a fool, Kylo helped her.

He should do something. Roll his eyes, and just tell her to stop this. _'All these questions, they’re meaningless, and also annoying, Rey.'_ But he felt her… insecurity, her dismay, when she stumbled onto a memory of him with another, and he can’t bear for her to believe that she could ever be  _less,_  to him. Less than anything, or anyone.

Maybe he shouldn’t allow her in his head as much he does. But out of the two of them, she’s the one who was ever able to say no.  

“Ben.” A soft kiss on his collarbone. “Did she touch you like this?”

Kylo can’t remember. He can barely remember his own name, now.

“Probably. During training, at least. But it wasn’t…”  _Like this. Like you. It wasn’t mind-addlingly good, Rey._ He cups her face and looks up at her.  _It wasn’t worth giving up the galaxy, for certain._

She notices, the way he’s staring at her. She notices, and smiles sweetly. “Was she pretty? You can be honest.”

Who knows. Kylo can barely recall her face, or her body. But what Rey is really asking, voice hesitant and breathy, is,  _Was she more beautiful than I am?_ And:

“No.” It’s the truth.

She nods, looking neither smug nor unconvinced. His unreadable, stubborn sand rat. Foolish enough to think that anyone else could ever matter. One hand slides lower, tracing the ridge of Kylo’s abdomen, the V of his muscles there, the spot where his skin meets the waistband of his pants.

“What about this, Ben?”

Her fingers, smart and precise, undo the fastening and peel the fabric away, and—

Her hand is small and soft, and his cock is not, and for a moment it’s clear, that neither of them is ready for this. But it’s only a short moment. Then Rey finds a rhythm— _Ah_.  _Fuck._ —and Kylo centers himself enough that maybe, _maybe_ , this won’t be humiliatingly over in the next five seconds.

Maybe.

“What about this, Ben?” She asks it into his ear, and this time he  _does_  shiver. “Did she do this for you?”

He shakes his head in denial, and lets his eyes fall shut.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the promps: Body Swap

 

Boobs.

He has boobs. 

Not particularly large. But they stick out, and they are soft, and they yield when he cautiously pokes at them with a finger, and—they are definitely boobs.

“Stop touching them,” Rey orders. Except that she’s talking with Kylo’s voice. From Kylo’s body. With Kylo’s mouth, which is several inches higher than his is and requires him to crane his neck a bit. Being short  _sucks_.

“Why should I stop?” He pokes again. They feel nice, the breasts. They feel  _really_  nice. 

“Because—because I’m asking you not to? Because they are  _my_ boobs.”

“Are they?” He makes to peak under her— _his—_ tunic, and Rey reaches forward with a large hand to stop him. Her coordination is… not the best.  _Yep. That’s how it feels, when you’re built like a Wookie, minus the body hair. Good luck with that, Rey._  “They’re on my chest. Must mean that they’re  _my_  boobs, now.”

“Only temporarily. Only until the Force stops playing pranks that are  _worthy of a 5-year-old!_ ” The last few words are louder, as if Rey’s hoping to be heard by someone. She says things, sometimes, that make Kylo doubt that she understands  _what_  the Force actually is.

“You don’t know that this is temporary. We might be stuck like this for a long time.” He touches the soft side of a breast one last time, and then sighs and lets his hand fall to his side, leaning back against the bulkhead. “We might as well go ahead and get comfortable in our new bodies.”

“Comfortable?” Rey scowls, and Kylo has to admit that she— _he—_ can look a little intimidating. 

He nods. “You know. Learn to move. Learn to live our daily lives. Keep ourselves clean.”

“What—what do you mean, clean?”

Kylo begins walking towards the dimly lit corridor. “You know what? It’s been a long day. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

It takes Rey a minute to register the meaning behind his words. But when she does— “What—what?! No.  _No_. You can’t. You can’t take a shower with my—”

Kylo looks back and smiles at her. “Feel free to do the same.”

Rey blushes furiously.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: ABO + Coming untouched + First time

 

In hindsight, he should have jerked off before coming over.

At least once. But ideally three times.

Right after the three A.M. barrage of text messages  _(i know you don’t particularly like me and last time we spoke i called you a whiny edgelord—which, btw, is kind of true and you have to admit it—but i’m going into heat in like fifteen minutes and it’s gonna be a rough one and—please, don’t make me ask Poe—please please please—please—i promise i’ll make it good for you—please Alpha—you always smell so good i beg you—please_ ), that would have been the perfect window of opportunity. He could have jacked one—okay,  _three—_ off and then driven over without having his dick try to punch its way out of his jeans.

Maybe it would even have made him look slightly more dignified. Less eager.  

The point is moot, because Ben did  _not_  jerk off, and even though he wouldn’t have thought it possible, the situation becomes about ten times worse when she opens the door of her apartment, and…

_Jesus Christ_. Rey really… she really  _is_  an Omega. An Omega about to go into heat.

Isn’t she. 

Ben swallows against the lump in his throat and orders himself to— _get. a. fucking. grip. Solo—_ but she’s on him before the door is fully closed behind his back.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for coming.  _Thank you, Alpha._ ” About two gallons of blood rush to his cock, which twitches enthusiastically against his zipper. Ben feels immediately lightheaded. “I like you so much. My whiny edgelord. My Alpha.”

She looks… Yeah. But then, she always looks spectacular. The way she smells today, though. Like pure  _sex_. She smells like she was built for Ben, at the atomic level. Like she was put on this world exclusively to be fucked and taken care of by him—no other purpose. There is something thermonuclear, about her effect on him.

“Rey. You only like me because you are in heat.”

“Oh, I like you all the time—I’m only  _telling_  you because I’m in heat.”

Her eyes are glazed over. She’s not going to remember this, and if she does, she’s not going to be happy about it. Ben hopes it’s the former, because no matter how out of it she is, there is no way she’s missing how horny he is right now. Her tummy is so soft against his cock, her breath his puffing against his gland, and her fingernails are catching on his nipple even through his t-shirt.  She has no idea, how close to losing it Ben is. How ready to drag her down to the floor and shove aside her underwear and—

She cannot possibly know. This is going to get embarrassing pretty soon, if she doesn’t—

“Can we… Rey, can we slow down a little?”

She smiles up at him. Laughs a bit, in an almost drunken way. “What do you mean, slow down? You realize that we’re about to…?”

He does. Ben realizes it, and his dick very much realizes it, even his knot seems to be realizing it full well, but the fact remains that—

“We haven’t even—Rey, we’ve never even touched, before today.”

It’s a lie. In the year and two months of their semi-hostile acquaintance they have touched exactly five times. Twice through their clothes as they passed each other in the hallway; once as they reached for the same muffin before a data blitz; and another time—the time that happens to have fed his spank bank for the past six months—when someone bumped into Rey and made her lose her balance so badly that her front ended up fully plastered to Ben’s.

But who the fuck is counting.

“Oh. Okay. I mean, in five minutes or so I’m really going to need you to…You know.” Rey leans back a little. Ben’s eyes fall down to her breasts, which he’s been fantasizing about since… day one, probably, and his cock surges harder against his fly. His boxer briefs, which he put on before coming over, feel embarrassingly wet.  _God_ , he should have jerked off before getting in the car. Five times.  _Ten_. “How about… How about we kiss, before we move on? Would that be slow enough, Ben?”

Kiss. Fucking fuck, she wants to  _kiss_. “Ah…Sure.” His dick… his dick needs to stop. And his heart needs to slow down. And Rey needs to smell—not like this. Tone it down, maybe.

“Uh… yes. Sure.” Breathing exercises. Prime numbers. No, European capitals.  _Something_  is bound to help him take this down a notch.

“Okay.” Rey smiles up at him, looking inebriated by his smell. With a hand on his nape she pulls his face down to hers. He really has no choice but to follow—

_—Rome, Madrid, Berlin, Lisbon—_

“Is this okay?” Her voice is so soft. And his dick is as hard as a pike.

_—Budapest, Bratislava, Vienna—_

_No. Shit, no_. “Ah… Yes.”

“Ben.” Her lips are brushing against his, now. “Alpha. Sometimes I can’t stand you. But even then, you always,  _always_  smell so good.” Her fingers caress his bicep. “And you are so strong.”

_—Warsaw, Oslo—_

“When I realized I was going into heat I was so upset, but then I thought of you fucking me through it and I—“

It’s absolutely blinding. The pleasure. It crashes into him like a tidal wave he’s helpless against, and has him arch his back against the door. His hands scramble for purchase and can only find—shit, this is her ass that he’s gripping hard enough to hurt—and he is  _whimpering_ , god, the  _indignity_  of it as every last drop of control within him is obliterated, and this—this—is  _this_  an  _orgasm_? If so he’s never had one before—and  _fuck_ , it squeezes every ounce of pleasure out of him.

And then, what feels like years later, he remembers. Where he is. Who he’s with. They haven’t— _Shit_ , they haven’t even kissed yet, and he already—

This is the absolute worst moment of his life. Following the very best, by about half a second.

_Shit._

Rey doesn’t move away, but she sounds so hesitant when she asks, “Did you just—?”

Ben shuts his eyes tight, lets his head fall back against the door, and… what’s the point in denying it? She can smell it, for sure. 

He nods.

“Oh, Alpha.” Ben expects derision. Scorn. But Rey’s tone, it only sounds… sweet. Which is why he can bear opening his eyes and looking down at her.

There is a soft smile on her lips. And she looks gentle and fascinated and understanding and… really,  _really_  turned on. Ben’s heart skips a beat when he notices her red cheeks, and the way she is biting into her lower lip, and how gracefully she…

Goes on her knees in front of him.

_Oh._

She lowers his zipper, and the sound is deafening in the silence of the night.

“Alpha. Let me clean you up.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Rey wearing Ben's helmet

 

“By the way, I fixed it for you.”

Rey does this. Saying things out of the blue, asking questions with no apparent rhyme or reason. One of her many quirks, probably leftover from her years spent on Jakku with little conversation or social interaction. Ben continues running his fingers in the sweat pooled at the base of her spine, enjoying the way her light weight warms him as he racks his brain to remember what they were discussing a few minutes ago, before she… and then he…

Before.

He comes up empty.

“Fixed, what?”

She yawns softly. “Your mask… thing.”

“My mask?”

“The black one. That looked like an upside down trashcan. You were wearing it when we met.” She shifts on his chest to give him a mocking look. “How many masks do you have, anyway?”

Just the one. Zero, actually, since he smashed the one into what was probably forty different pieces.

“You can’t possibly have fixed my helmet.”  

She gives him one of her smiles.

“Wanna bet, supreme boy?”

With her palms on Ben’s chest, she lifts herself away from him and out of bed, ignoring the way his hands reach out for her to make her stay— _needy, when did he get so needy_ —and then following her with his eyes as she walks to a closet and bends over to retrieve something. Ben averts his gaze and tries not stare at her ass, since they just… and he’s trying to restrain himself. To avoid crowding her, or overwhelming her. Too much.

“Here.”

With a triumphal flourish, she deposits the intact helmet next to him on the mattress, before resuming her position astride his hips. Something immediately quiets inside Ben. 

Relief. He feels calm, when they’re touching.

“How did you fix it?”

“Tape and super glue.”

“Rey.”

“I just put it inside a bacta tank, and then it was like new.”

“Rey.”

“What if I told you I used black magic?”

He stares her down, trying to intimidate her into giving him a serious answer.

She just laughs and shrugs, leaning over for a chaste, apologetic kiss. “I just did. With my tools. I thought maybe you’d want it again. I don’t know, maybe to remember your Dark Side days. Before I talked you into becoming a reasonable human being, and all that.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t. Want it, I mean.”

Better not to dwell on it. On the time when the two of them were on different sides of the war. It makes Ben’s force shaky and volatile, his saber rattling somewhere on a table in the adjacent room.

Rey can feel it, of course. And if she couldn’t, she’d still know. Since she  _knows_  him.

“Fine, then. I’ll keep it for myself.” She straightens and lifts the mask with the Force until it’s levitating in front of her eyes, pretending to stare into it. With an impish smile, she grabs it and turns it around, until she slide it on her head.

“How could you even see anything, with this thing? I can’t believe they let you wear it and run around with a lightsaber.”

The voice modulator isn’t on, but the mask muffles her words. Still, her amusement is hard to hide. Ben opens his mouth to answer and finds that—he can’t. She is completely naked except for the mask and—and it does  _things,_  to him. To see her like this. He’s getting hard against het thigh,  _again,_  and it takes a couple of tries for his throat to work and push the words out. Or what passes as words.

“Um—the… the visor is… adjustable.”

She  _knows_  him. She resides in his head, she knows him so well, and he can  _feel_  her smile inside the helmet, just as if it were his own.

“You like this.”

“I—”

“Me. Wearing this mask.”

She shimmies her hips, and he— _fuck_.

“Rey—”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” She leans forward, her fingers twining with his. “Shall I get the cowl, too?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claiming/marking + Reylo 
> 
> This is set in the YPLH verse, when Ben and Rey are still at the start of their 'friends with benefits' arrangement. If you haven’t read YPLH but want to read this, you only need to know that these two idiots are fuckbuddies and that they’re both waaay more into the other than they feel they can admit. And it’s ABO!

 

He thinks that maybe she presses a kiss into the base of his neck, before lifting herself up and away from him. Though maybe not. It’s possible— _likely_ —that it’s just wishful thinking, and he’s depressingly aware of it.

“That was nice,” she tells him with one of her smiles, and then begins to gracefully pad around his bed, looking for the clothes he took off her a couple of hours earlier.

It’s sex, that they just had. Even Ben knows that sex should  _improve_ his mood, not make him want to trash his own bedroom. And yet. The anticipation he feels when Rey is about to come over always dissolves into bitter, helpless irritation by the time she’s ready to leave.

A miserable idiot, that’s what he is.

_You don’t have to be_ , that obnoxious, unsilenceable Alpha voice inside his head suggests.  _She’s your Omega. She’s here. You can make her stay. You can make her stay and make her like it, it’s only what she needs, you can take care of her, fuck her until she—_

“Is the gray cat yours, too?”

The pillow shifts under Ben’s head as he turns to look at Rey. She is sitting on the edge of his mattress, facing away from him. Her hair, already so much longer than when he first met her, is swept to the side, with short, sweaty strands curling at her nape.

“What?”

“There was a cat in your front yard, when I arrived. Gray. Not the calico.”

“Ah. No.” She smells so good. The day he met her he thought that nothing,  _nothing_  could ever compare to her. And then, a few weeks ago, he inhaled her scent after filling her up with his come for the first time, and quite frankly he’s not sure how he managed to survive  _that_. He clears his throat. “Not mine.”

“I love cats,” she tells him, a little non-sequitur, and he’s not sure what to say in response that won’t make him sound like he’s crazy, or an asshole, or a crazy asshole.

_Why? What else do you love? Because I’ll get it for you. I’ll make sure you have it, and then you can stay here. With me._

_All the time._

“I briefly considered vet school.” She chuckles softly. “For, like, two weeks. When I was a sophomore, I think.”

Her arm twists to scratch along the perfect line of her spine, and Ben—it’s difficult not to stare at her, when she moves. He would know. He’s tried.

“They say it’s even harder than med school, to get into.” Her tone is musing. “I wonder if it’s true.”

Her mating gland is—close. Inches from him. Easily within his reach, and so obscenely  _exposed_. Ben shouldn’t stare at it. Granted, he’s done way worse than staring—filthy things, delicious thing, perfect,  _right_  things that make his knot pulse even now, after everything they’ve just done. But with Rey unaware of the direction his thoughts are taking, leering at it feels like a new low. 

Still. Here he is. Letting his base, inexcusable,  _Alpha_  self play it all out like a damn movie. He could pull her back to him and hold her down. She is strong, but no match for him. Of course, there’s the fact that whatever she asks of him he feels compelled to do. There is the fact that he’s her abject slave—but she doesn’t seem to be aware of it, so. So, maybe he could hold her down and fuck into her and knot her—the base of his cock swells at the thought, and he has to reach down and grip it—and she wouldn’t even  _think_  of saying no.

He would make sure of it. He would make sure that she enjoys—

“Are you okay?”

Rey has stopped getting dressed, and is looking at him from above her shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Your scent was…”

It was spiking, of course. It always does, when she’s around and he starts thinking about the things that he really wants to do to her.

“Come here.”

Rey angles her torso until he’s in her field of view. “Mm?”

“Come back here. I’m not done with you.”

She has only gotten as far as putting on her socks—knee-high, blue and pink and yellow with little unicorns, and that he wants to fuck this woman while she’s wearing  _unicorn socks_  should probably come as a surprise, but it doesn’t. Otherwise she’s still naked, and when he pulls her on top of himself it’s like she was never gone. Her cunt is warm and wet on his knot, and he could slip inside so smoothly and easily, she wouldn’t even have time to say  _no_.

“I—Oh.”

Her  _oh_  is—pleased. Not quite submissive, but… yeah. She’ll let him do whatever he wants to her. She’ll let him fuck her every which way, and at least Ben has this. Not nearly enough, but he can make believe.

“You are… Rey. I just want to fuck you once more.” 

He doesn’t  _want_  to praise her. To tell her how good she feels. It seems like a lot to force on her, this obsession of his with her. It’s not Rey’s fault, no matter that for months he blamed her for it, and she doesn’t want it nor deserve it. And yet. He can’t stop himself, and the words spill out. “Rey. I can’t believe the way you smell.”

She moans.

Ben’s hand climbs up her spine, to her gland, and—he really shouldn’t be on it so much. It’s indecent. It’s not  _his_  to touch. But Rey just gasps, and he does too, and… it’s not as if he can help himself. His other hand slides down and he angles himself and—he’s in.

_God_. He’s in.

He grunts. And Rey gasps. And then their eyes meet and lock together and—

He wasn’t prepared for this. As stupid, as idiotic as it sounds, Ben wasn’t prepared for  _her_.

“Is this okay? Can I move?”

Rey nods. Her  _yes_  is breathy and barely audible.

He still waits. Kisses her and runs his palms over her sides, her ass, her back, until she’s soft and pliant. Then her begins to move within her and to move her with him, one hand at the base of her spine and the other rubbing her gland.

He has no right. He should let her go. No, _no_ , he should pull out, flip her around and bite her. It would be permanent. She’d be his mate, and neither of them would wish for anything else, and—

Fuck,  _no_. He should really let her go. Or at least not touch her  _there_. He orders his hand to move, to travel elsewhere, and—

It doesn’t. Of course.

On top of him, Rey sighs. “Ben. This is so—” He must hit someplace good inside her, because she inhales sharply and lets her head fall into his throat, and—her neck gland is there. Right  _there._

Under his mouth.

The pheromones are not—not as intense as they are on her upper back. But still delicious. It’s just the smell of her. The same scent that clings to the pillows and the sheets long after she has left him, that drives him crazy for days.

Ben’s hips start pumping faster, and he should not — he should fucking  _not_ —but he’s biting into the soft skin behind her ear before he even knows it, mixing her smell with his own, and just like that, it’s all over. The pleasure thickens and swells until it’s to dense to push through and then they’re both coming like an avalanche, Rey’s breath on his neck grounding him as the feeling of  _her_  explodes inside his head.

Once again, Ben manages not to knot her. A fucking miracle, this time.

Every time.

Rey shudders and nuzzles into him— _“Alpha.”_ —and after that Ben holds her tight, closes his eyes, and waits for the tide of pleasure to slowly fall, savoring her temporary change of scent. Full of his come as she is, he can almost close his and pretend that she’s his. That he wants for nothing. That he has arrived.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough.

“It was nice,” Rey says, again. Slightly more breathless than earlier. She looks dizzy with pleasure, a little out of it as she moves away from Ben all over again, picking up the clothes the dropped by the bed a few minutes earlier.

Ben tries not to stare.

_It’s late. I don’t want you to drive home. Not after this,_ he told her last time, and she brushed it off with a shrug. Didn’t—or pretended not to—understand that he was asking her to stay, and not to get a cab or let him drive her home. 

_I don’t want you to fucking go home, period._

Of course, Ben didn’t say that. Doesn’t say it now, either, even as she puts on her shirt and jeans, pulls her hair up in a ponytail, and smiles at him while waving her hand.

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

Ben closes his eyes, and nods.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark Rey, Palpatine feeding Rey and Kylo a vision. Based on the second teaser trailer. Unbetad and barely edited and not very good but I thought I'd post it anyway ❤️

 

 

She is not more beautiful to him, nor any less than she ever was. He is more partial to Rey than to black robes or dark makeup, and while the belt at her waist reminds him of early morning dreams and the shame of his soiled bunk, by now he is accustomed to not having what he wants. If that’s what the Emperor was trying to accomplish, fill Kylo’s head with some sort of irresistible bribe in exchange of getting him to finish his centuries of dirty Sith work, he can think again.

_ Are you certain? _

He expects her lightsaber to be a staff. The unstable crackling on the blades though,  _ that _ punches the breath out of his lungs and has a sharp sound passing through the voice modulator. It casts a red shadow to her eyes, and a swirl of violent colors that he has come to think of as his own. 

_ She’d be yours. I would give her to you.  _

Her hair slips out from her hood, brushing the pale skin of her collarbone. 

_ She is not a girl anymore. _

He wonders what vision the Emperor is feeding Rey. Maybe her family, coming back to Jakku to retrieve her with lies and excuses on their lips. Her friends, safe and sound after their foolish quests. Han or Luke still alive, treating her like a daughter.

_ You’d be surprised.  _ The Emperor’s voice in his head is even icier and oilier Snoke’s.  _ You and her are not as different as you think. _

Kylo ignites his own saber and attacks her, this new Rey who would sit next to him on a throne he hates and maybe even sleep beside him at night—

_ Yes. She’d be yours. _

She fights just like the real one. Holds the hilt until her knuckles are white and then puts her entire strength behind every hit, her entire weight sinking in every lunge. She fights exactly like Kylo does, just a few too many twirls and a lot of sweat and grunts, and it reminds him of the sweet, messy feeling of having her scavenge around his mind, steal years of training from him. She’d left small, sticky imprints inside his head. In the past year he’s found himself tracing their outline more than once. He is doing it now, even as he backs her against a tree in their forest. The Emperor, Kylo must admit, has chosen well the location of this vision. 

“Is this what it takes?” Rey hisses. Their blades are sizzling against each other, less than an inch from her nose. “What it takes for you to want me? Something black to make my eyes pretty and two cracked crystals?”

He blinks at her words, a moment of hesitation, because this is what the real Rey—his Rey, his Rey that is not his—would say. It’s the wrong thing to do: she pushes back against him, and Kylo manages to corner her again and disarm her, except that now his blade is at her throat, which means that it’s finally come, the time when he has no excuses anymore and must finally kill her.

_ That would be a waste. But she is yours, after all. To do what you will. _

The waterfall of images—bound wrists and bite marks and his hand closed around her gasping throat—is not his own. Kylo does think of Rey; he dreams of her, and his dreams run filthy and erotic and sometimes obscene. But controlling her, punishing her for the agony of the past year, is not among his favorite fantasies. More often, he brings himself off to the thought of her hair fanning on his pillow as she sleeps soundly; other times it’s kissing her breasts; but this mix of pleasure and violence and dominance—that’s all Palpatine, and lazy work, to boot. It would be more at home in a Hutt Cartel brothel than in Kylo’s mind, especially when it comes to Rey.

“If you kill me,” she says, and her eyes are her  _ eyes _ . A small smile after that, and—it really pulls her robes together, that smirk. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t kill me.” 

He has no recollection of switching off his saber. He barely notices her when she pushes up on her feet, the black sleeves of her dress pooling at her elbows as she cups the side of his helmet and presses her mouth against the cold durasteel. And then continues, slow, sweet, slicing-cruel, tracing one of the red veins that scar the metal. 

Kylo can feel his cock harden and the Emperor untangle himself from his mind. This, Palpatine doesn’t want to be part of. This mess of hearts beating too fast and muscles pulling tight and curls of heat. It’s too human for him, and it has very little to do with power. He doesn’t understand it nor like it, pleasure without pain. It repels him.

Rey notices it too, that they are alone in the Vision. She snaps Kylo’s helmet open and takes it off easily, as though she does it for him every night. “What is he doing?” she breathes.

Kylo looks away from her mouth. “He’s showing us what he would give us. If we followed him.” 

She purses her lips. “So he would give  _ me _ a lot of power. And to  _ you _ , he would give…” She glances down at herself, and Kylo can’t help following her gaze. Oh, the neckline of her dress. “Are we in the forest? I thought Starkiller Base was destroyed.”

He shakes his head. “We are still on the Death Star. Still fighting.”

A soft push inside their minds, the Emperor coming to check on them. Rey notices first—she picks up Kylo’s hand, takes the glove off, and presses a soft, openmouthed kiss to his knuckles. There is a brief, pleased feeling in the back of their heads, and then they are alone again. Slowly, Rey slides Kylo’s hand to the golden choker at her throat.  

“You still feel it, don’t you? The pull to the light.” There is a black ring on her finger, and he is inexplicably enraged that he’s not the one who put it there. “Ben.”

He presses her back against the three, his gloved hand flat against her stomach. He is not sure what he’s doing. He should be killing her, shouldn’t he?

“It’s not Palpatine or nothing, Ben. I’m here, and your mother—”

He kisses her because it’s preferable to hearing her talk about Leia. He breathes into her mouth and licks her lips and steals air from her lungs, and then he doesn’t stop, he cannot stop because—

Maybe the Emperor is right, after all. Maybe Kylo  _ does _ like her, like this. As dark as a shadow and dressed for his pleasure. He clutches her waist and pushes back her hood; her hair is loose underneath, long and straight and made for his fist to clutch. His heart is pounding in his fingertips, in his abdomen, through their bond. So he spins her around and pushes her against the tree, closing his teeth on her soft throat.

“I can wear black,” she murmurs, combing her fingers through his hair, pressing his head to her skin. “It this is what you like, I can wear—”

There is nothing underneath her gown. Nothing at all except for slick drops coating the inside of her thighs, and if he hadn’t known that this is a vision meant for him, exclusively for him, this would have been a dead giveaway.

“Or I can wear nothing— _ Ben _ .” It’s still gloved, the finger that dips inside her cunt. Barely one knuckle deep but the fit is tight and wet and warm even through the leather, and he wishes she hadn’t taken off his mask. He wishes he could hide his moans as he rubs her clit with his thumb and makes her sigh.

He is clumsy, fumbling hastily through the fastening of his pants and pressing one knee between her thighs to hold her open for himself. He aligns himself to her entrance, pressing the head of his cock up and down wet lips, adjusting her hips, bending her over with a hand at her nape, trying to fit better inside of her. The black of his robe joins with hers around the full globes of her ass, and—the Emperor was right. There can be no greater pleasure than knowing that she is his.  _ It could be like this, _ Kylo thinks. _ All the time. If only he said yes to Palpatine. _

“It could be like this even if you didn’t.” Rey is smiling in his head. There is a torrential sort of pleasure, coming from her. Disorienting and a little too brilliant. She is vibrating with it, and Kylo still doesn’t quite understand why this is the vision the Emperor chose to tempt Rey with. She can’t possibly want this. “Maybe slightly less goth. But I’m not ruling anything out. ”

He has to stop her hips from squirming, or she’ll impale herself, and Kylo will sink into her so deep, until all is lost. He bites his lips bloody and manages to take a step back; to tuck himself inside his robes again, hard in a painful, maddening way. He takes one last look at her pale thighs before letting the hem of her skirt fall to the ground.

“Even if I didn’t?”

When Rey turns around, her cheeks are red and her eyes are liquid. She nods with a small smile. “I promise.”

They’re on the Death Star again. Rey’s robes are white, her face is scrubbed clean, and her lightsaber is blue; a much clearer blue than the water storming around them. They exchange a long, silent look. Her arm brushes his elbow as they rush towards the Emperor.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey, [this is my Tumblr](https://ever-so-reylo.tumblr.com/), if you want to get in touch! However, since it looks like Tumblr's days are numbered, I also recently joined The Twitter, and I love it sooo much!!! You can find me [here](https://twitter.com/EverSoReylo?lang=en)! ♡


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